Along the endless dusty path
The ants moved in caravan, one after another
They did not stray, nor speak of freedom
Only the hush of precision, humility, and obedience
The whole line bowed like reeds in wind
And where the road broke or an obstacle rose
They did not gnaw, nor rage, nor climb the height
But curved around it, smooth and flawless
And when the stream forked into twin threads
Each sought the other, and paths entwined again
Those behind traced the bend without question
On the circular trail with neither start nor end

But one ant, small beneath the weight of sun
Veered from the line, for reasons none could tell
Perhaps it smelled sweetness in the nearby grass
Or dreamed the world wider than the narrow creed
It wandered, briefly bold, just a little off track
But soon the dust turned strange beneath its feet
The wind couldn’t guide it back, the ground no sign
It turned back, frantic, chasing the ghost of a line
Longing for the drumbeat, the comfort of many
And when at last it slipped into the stream
It tore the rhythm, each scrambled to reclaim their place
None turned to greet it, none aligned behind
It paused, turned back to the exile once called home
Out of step, it watched the caravan flow on
Then peeled away, slow and alone
Returning to the soft wilderness of its mistake

I have seen death with my own eyes. It had a form which was hard to comprehend; a mystery clothed in shifting shadows. But its conducts seemed humanly familiar.

I only felt its rough hands seize me, pull me, and then we embarked on a journey of an impossible speed.

It whispered something about comfort, telling me not to worry for we were to go to a place of eternal peace.

We sped through the narrow paths of interwoven mninga trees, or something similar, and we were soon into a space of carriolis that spiralled in chaotic patterns.

I could hear voices, some were hauntingly familiar, calling me by name with a tenderness that sent shivers down my non-physical spine. It was a jungle of noises, coming from all sort of places, and they clashed over my ears like winds fighting over a flame.

Then this thing, this 'death', took me farther to a realm unlike anything I could have imagined. It was place of boundless expanse, full of creatures that only seemed to come from dreams and nightmares. Shapes shifted fluidly, and forms were never static.

It placed me in a corner that wasn’t a corner by the sense of the word. It was an unspace where time seemed irrelevant. My body, if it could still be called that, folded in on itself, shrinking into a shape that defied anatomy. I became something small and compact, yet felt no pain.

There, I witnessed myself; a stream of energy, spiraling in mesmerising cyclonic patterns. My consciousness, detached yet hyper-aware, hovered in an ethereal limbo. I wasn’t me,  not in the way I had always understood.

The physicality of my being was no longer there. I felt like a formless presence, a glowing spark of something alive but not physical. Days, or what felt like days, passed as I stayed trapped in that surreal confinement, my energy pulsating like a caged tempest.

I felt an accumulation of power, a force so big it frightened me. It wanted to escape, to explode outward, but something greater, some higher force, held it in check.

The world around me was strange. It was mix of chaos and emptiness. It had no clear form, yet it seemed full of meaning. It was like being lost and found at the same time, trapped yet somehow free. Then, suddenly, there was nothing. Everything vanished, even the energy that I had become seemed to disappear.

I have seen death before. Whether it came to grant me a glimpse of the world that lies beyond or chose, in its cryptic mercy, to spare me for another day, I cannot tell. But death, of this I am certain, I have seen, and he has seen me.

I still remember the day, I was in the company of friends, all known to me
We sat drinking in the lounge, the atmosphere golden and warmth,
And here were other people too, lost in the hums of conversation and music
We talked of the pleasures of the day, laughing
Then my friend Aseko asked, “Ronga, are you okay?”
I ignored and laughed it off, all others joining
Sigu put, “Aseko, are you okay to ask Ronga if he’s?”
And Morara added, “Or Aseko is drunk, are you not so Aseko?”
But Aseko, having felt offended, left.

We added more drinks, more warmth to fill the crack
But when I raised my face from a sip, they were all gone
Ah, let them go. It is time to go.

The embers of the sun had faded in the cold, crimson bleeding in the horizon
I took a path, so used to me, so strange to me
Its sides a tangled wall of branches, twisting roots clutching the earth
Each of my steps taking a silent warning, echoes coming to me in whispers
“Go, Ronga, don’t go!”

I passed cornfield, roaring wind yanking me backward
Moon’s silver gaze a silent plea, A DETERRENT!
And afar, beyond the reach of time’s hurried pace
Were shifting streaks of green and grey

A nudge!

“Hey, Ronga, are you okay?” asked Aseko
“No!” answered I. “Where are the rest?”
“All gone, we need to go, Ronga!”
“To where, Aseko, to where?”